Kisses for Draco
by Von
Summary: His duty complete, Harry is saying goodbye in a rather.. unorthodox fashion. SLASH. Major Harry/Draco. Extremely minor Harry/Blaise, Harry/Neville, Harry/Snape.. well, Harry/Everyone, really..


My Second HPDM fic.

The other is a bit more explicit and can be found at restrictedsection dot org.

* * *

**Kisses for Draco**

"Did you hear about Potter?"

Malfoy snorted to himself as one of the Slytherin third years was accosted by a Ravenclaw fourth year.

Siblings, of course. Their tendency to ignore the bounds of respectable inter-house isolation was as common as it was annoying.

And Potter. Potter, Potter, Potter.

_Everything_ was about Potter. Just because the bastard had gone and done the un-doable with – apparently – little more effort than it cost him to win at Quidditch, everyone was falling all over themselves to worship him.

Again.

Now, deep down, Draco didn't mind admitting to himself that he was.. well, not _grateful_, per say, because grateful meant gratitude and that was something he would _never _feel for the green-eyed bastard of Gryffindor..

But maybe 'glad' would do. 'Relieved' was another. The sensation of an invisible weight being lifted from his shoulders, from his _future_, had been wonderful. He'd been the first one to see Potter trudging back to Hogwarts, bloody and weary, one hand clutching a thick, pinkish-white spinal column… a spine that ended in the upside-down head of the Dark lord Voldemort. He would never forget it.

"Did you hear? Mandy told me that Potter's been handing out _kisses_!"

A storm of excited, girly squealing followed the announcement.

Draco resisted the urge to inhale his goblet of acornade in order to drown and thus get away from it all.

Typical Potter. A day couldn't go by without him doing _something_. What, killing Voldemort hadn't been enough?!

Though, admittedly, this was somewhat unusual behaviour from the 16-year-old legendary prude.

"Ohmigosh! Why?"

"I dunno! Something about presents?"  
(ear-bleeding squeal)

"Do you think he'd give _us_ one?!"

"Maybe… we could kind of, just walk by? Say 'Hi' or 'Congratulations' or 'Thanks'? Or something?"

"That could _totally_ work!"

Draco glared after the retreating girls. The original two had picked up a scattered following and had the look of an army of fangirls on the prowl.

He snorted again, taking pains to sound contemptuous.

Because he most _certainly_ was not jealous.

"Stupid Potter.." He muttered, and turned back to his charms essay.

"So, did you hear about Potter?"

Draco smacked his head down onto his desk, then turned it so he could glare up at his friend. Blaise was smiling slightly, lips curled and eyes flashing with mocking amusement.

"_Please_ don't enlighten me." Draco groaned. "If I _want_ to hear about whatever insipid thing that prat has done now, there's an entire school full of babbling stalkers to ask."

Blaise laughed and strolled over to sit on Draco's bed. Draco made an effort at ignoring him. It went rather well, he thought. It was almost a whole five minutes before he couldn't take it any more.

"Alright. Alright. _What_ has Potter done now? And if you say 'giving out kisses', I'll feed you a genital-shrinking solution _next chance I get_."

Blaise grinned.

"Alright. Besides, I wouldn't say 'kisses'… more like unspeakably-hot-snogs. I'm talking 'unable to walk straight after' tongue-action here.."

Draco stared at his friend. Then he gave him a quick, sharp look-over.

His jaw dropped.

"No.." He breathed.

Blaise's grin widened. He seemed uncommonly smug.

"Oh, _yes_.." He replied.

Draco's mind temporarily blanked at this betrayal.

"You.. you _snogged Potter_?!" He yelped. Blaise laughed in his face,

"Actually, it was more like _Potter_ snogged _me_." His friend corrected, still chuckling. "I was just coming out of the bathroom and he stepped out of the crowd, slammed me against the wall and proceeded to.. well.. Let's just say I needed to nip _back_ into the bathroom right after it…"

Draco's jaw was still having trouble closing.

"_You_ and _Potter_..?" He breathed weakly. Blaise shook his head slightly, a slight blush on his face but lips still twisted in wry amusement.

"More like Potter and the rest of Hogwarts." He said ruefully. "The way I hear it, I'm just the latest of a long list."

Draco just blinked and stared down at his desk. His journal lay open, the day's notes and thoughts suddenly seeming insignificant in comparison.

A small tendril of thought pondered whether or not _he'd_ be assaulted soon. A much smaller one wondered if that'd be a bad thing…

He squashed them both.

"Typical." He scoffed, belatedly scraping up some Slytherin hauteur. "Just because he did something mildly cool, he's using it as an excuse to get randy.. probably knows now that people will do it with him even if he's known as a pre-jacker…"

Blaise laughed again, standing up from Draco's bed and moving back to the doorway.

"Draco, if Harry Potter came up to me right now and said 'Hey, wossaname, wanna be screwed into the ground and then forgotten?' I wouldn't be able to rip my clothes off fast enough." He said candidly, teeth flashing white in another grin. "Wait till you get one of these kisses… then you'll understand…"

Draco glared after his friend.

"Like I'd let him!" he shouted at the closed door. He turned back to his journal with a huff, only to freeze when he noticed his quill had scrawled 'Harry Potter' three times.

"Argh!" He yelled, throwing the book at the wall. He packed up his equipment, went to bed and blew out the candle.

He was _not_ going to think about _Harry Potter_ and his _stupid_ kissing-fetish for **one more second**.

He could _not stop thinking about it!_

Everywhere he went, people were giggling and gossiping about _one thing_.

Harry Potter and his freakin' 'gifts'.

Or, as he'd heard Potter referred to them as, his 'Thanks for nothing, you bastards.' farewell gifts.

That was the rumour, anyway. Millie Statchinbough swore she'd overheard a Hufflepuff swear _he'd_ overhead it in a conversation between Brown and Finnegan.

Draco had heard about Potter's increasing temper with the Magical Humans he interacted with on a daily basis, but the notion of the other teen being quite so blatant about his dislike was.. ludicrous. Besides, he bet Potter didn't even know _how_ to swear. Surely that required some modicum of balls.

…Ok, _fine_, surely slaughtering twenty Elite Death Eaters, followed by Voldemort himself, all because the ex-Dark Lord had whacked the wrong family this time required _some_ portion of balls…

But.. whatever. That didn't mean Potter could, had, or _did_, swear.

Right. Good 'ole justification. Never went wrong….

Besides, it didn't make sense anyway. What kind of angry gesture was it to go around making out with people? Sure, he was creating a _lot_ of frustration, both physical and emotional, from what Draco heard – and he could very quietly, in a Slytherin way, respect that – but it wasn't really 'lashing out' at the world, was it?

And farewell gifts? Potter was only sixteen. There was still another four weeks of term left, before he had his seventh and _final_ year at Hogwarts.

Unless as thanks for ridding the world of Voldemort, the Ministry was gifting Potter with pre-emptive O's in all his NEWTS.

He would _not_ be surprised. Damned sycophants…

He glared venomously at the gaggle of girls that had walked right into him. Unfortunately, it did _not_ have its usual effect. The damn females just giggled their apologies and carried on.

What was he, a damned puppy? A teddy bear? A goody-two-shoes like Saint Potter?

"He's kissing _everyone_!" One girl screeched. "He kissed _me_ on the cheek."

Another snorted.

"Big deal, Sarah. I heard Neville Longbottom got bent backwards over a couch."

Draco winced at the mental image, ignored the slight flush that _came_ with the mental image and proceeded to discretely shadow the slow-moving group.

"Yeah, but he's one of Potter's closest friends, right? I hear there's a pattern to it. The closest you are to him, the hotter the kiss."

One of them snickered.

"I wonder what he gave the Headmaster." She cackled. Draco flinched. What a _revolting_ image!

There was a chorus of teenaged 'Ewww!'s.

"He gave the Professor a handshake and a hug." One of them volunteered. "I saw him. It was very emotional, I think, but yeah. No kisses. McGonagall just got a handshake and so did Professor Flitwick. Apparently Professor Sprout got a handshake and a light hug though.. Wonder what McGonagall thinks of _that_."

"What do you think he'll give Professor Snape?" A younger girl asked. There was a brief silence.

"A punch in the mouth." One sniggered eventually. They all had a good giggle at that and Draco sneered silently. They wouldn't be so chirpy if Severus caught wind of that.

"What do you reckon he'll give _Malfoy_?" Asked another.

There was a dead silence. Draco blinked, blindsided, then held his breath for the answer.

The bell for the end of lunch answered instead, the loud noise sending the girls scattering with various cries of 'see you later's and promises to meet up after dinner.

Draco cursed, then cursed again when he realised he _shouldn't_ be cursing over such a stupid issue.

"Did you hear about Potter?!"

Draco glared at The History of Magical Balls and wished the speaker into a circle of Hell. Any one, he wasn't picky.

Didn't _anyone_ respect the library anymore?

"He just snogged _Blaise Zabini_, right in the great Hall!"

A flash of fury shot through him. Draco breathed through it.

"What!? Again? No way! That's not fair! Zabini got some _last _week!"

"I know! Do you think maybe he's doing it over again?"

"What, like he's already kissed everyone else?"

"Maybe…"

"I hope so.. otherwise that is _so_ unfair.. Maybe we can upgrade? From cheek-to-tongue?"

"Tongue _in_ cheek?"

Draco stormed out to the sound of their laughter.

He found Blaise in the Great Hall, just starting on dinner.

"Is it true?!" He demanded quietly, as he sat down and unfolded his napkin.

Blaise threw him a slightly-smug, slightly-sheepish look.

"I, er.. I don't know what you.."

He shut up at Draco's glare.

Good. At least _someone_ was aware of how scary it was supposed to be.

"Uhm. Yeah." Blaise admitted, face turning a little pink as he stared down at his dinner.

"Well?!" Draco demanded in exasperation, as Blaise seemed disinclined to elaborate. "Why? He'd already snogged you, right?"

Blaise turned pinker still and mumbled something.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I know where you _sleep_, Blaise." He hissed warningly.

Blaise looked up at that, surprise and something else flashing through his eyes for a moment. An instant later, though, it was replaced by his standard amusement and just a hint of embarrassment

"Yeah. The, er.. first one was just part of the school-wide gift thing." He muttered. "The second was… well.. he said. He said, er.."

Draco waited patiently, tapping both his foot _and_ his silverware in a suitably subtly threatening way.

"He said it was.. for being 'so damn hot'." Blaise finally managed, poise only spoiled by his red-tinged face.

Draco's eye twitched.

What was _he_? Chopped Cornish Pixies?!

He growled and turned back to his meal, raising his goblet to his lips.

Blaise smirked at him.

"Why... jealous Malfoy? I'm surprised.."

Draco lowered the goblet with a scowl.

"I am _not_ jealous." He sneered. "I neither _want_ nor would _tolerate_ that half-blooded-"

Blaise's gaping expression cut him off.

"What?" He asked suspiciously. Blaise recovered from his impromptu goldfish-impression.

"You _haven't been kissed_ yet?!" He asked incredulously, voice going up a notch.

Draco, for reasons unknown, felt himself beginning to blush. Darting his gaze around, he gestured sharply for his friend to drop the subject or lower his voice or _something_ before he, Draco, silenced him with his pastry knife – for_ever_.

Blaise also glanced around, but quickly returned his eyes to Draco.

"Wow." He said quietly. "I'd have figured you and him.. well…"

Draco made another attempt to sneer. It was difficult, seeing as the heat in his face had him wanting to do nothing more than hide under the table until it went away.

"Well, nothing." He said haughtily. "Even Potter has boundaries, apparently." He raised the goblet to his lips again. Catching sight of his friend's slightly-twisted expression, he paused, the rim touching his lip and the liquid scant millimetres away.

"What?" He mumbled, not sure he wanted to know.

"Potter snogged Professor Snape, just before dinner." Blaise answered quietly.

Draco was very proud that – at the news – he did _not_ promptly inhale and choke on the liquid so dangerously close to him.

Instead, he choked on air, coughed violently into the goblet full of liquid and ended up with sunflower juice dripping off his face and hair.

He didn't notice.

"_What_?!" he wheezed incredulously.

A hint of Blaise's old grin flickered into existence.

"Yeah." His friend replied, careful to not actually look at him.

"Apparently Potter burst into his first-year's potions class, bound the Professor to his chair, then straddled his lap and snogged the life out of him."

Draco abruptly found it hard to breathe again.

"Wartotle swears Potter was grinding into him, but I don't think that's quite right.. from all other descriptions, he was more _pressing_ into him.. You know.. from the hips, as it were.."

Blaise coughed, the grin flickering over his face once more. He was still not looking at Draco, an action that seemed to require a lot of effort.

"Oh yeah.. all teeth and tongue and panting, apparently…" Blaise continued, blissfully unaware of Draco's imminent death-by-asphyxiation Or his own soon-to-be-murdered-corpse by Draco's asphyxiated hand.

"Seems like the only person he hasn't touched, then.. is you, Drake."

Draco finally coughed, long and hard. By the time he caught his breath and looked up, his ex-best-friend was long gone.

"_Bastard_" He gasped out, voice strained. "I do _not_ want Potter!"

He noticed his house mates staring at him. He glared. The glare seemed to work on _them_ too.

Good.

Bloody Potter.

"Bloody hell! Potter!"

Heads snapped up all around the common room, Draco's no exception.

Sure enough, Potter was standing just before the wall-exit, arms folded challengingly and expression calm.

Apparently when you've gone and knocked off a whole bunch of people, stepping into your opposing house's territory didn't mean too much.

"How did you get in here?!" Pansy demanded loudly. Potter stared at her, eyes coolly contemptuous.

Unexpectedly, Draco felt himself admiring the look. It wasn't one he'd have expected the House-Elves-are-people-too Wizard to be able to pull off.

But it was actually very good. Hadn't he heard some rumour about Potter being connected to Voldemort…?

"This _is _the Slytherin Dorm." Potter answered slowly, clearly.

_Patronisingly_.

Damn, Draco was getting chills just _listening _to him. Since when was Potter's voice so damn smooth?

"And I _am_ a Parsletounge." The other teen continued, almost insultingly careless.

"There's nowhere in this castle I can't go... least of all_ your_ common room."

There was an uneasy murmur at just how many times the boy-hero might have wandered into their domain, but on the most part people just blushed or giggled or thanked all that was holy that they hadn't woken up in the night to Potter's wand and the words 'You've _really_ pissed me off...'

Potter's gaze drifted away from Pansy.

And locked onto _him_.

Draco swallowed at the intensity of it. Abruptly, the words '_ I heard Neville Longbottom got bent backwards over a couch_' drifted through his mind.

He didn't know whether to be relieved that he hadn't been singled out as the _one_ person in Hogwarts who hadn't gotten anything.. or terrified that Potter had simply been saving the worst till last.

Because, judging by the light within emerald eyes and the slow, feral smile on Potter's face... It might not stop at snogging.

Busy squashing the impertinent thought that maybe, just _maybe_, that might not be such a bad thing, Draco didn't notice when Potter stalked through his unresisting house mates and stopped directly before him.

When two warm hands gripped his own and twisted them behind him, pulling him first away from the wall and then back into it, he caught up _rather rapidly_.

"Potter!" He yelped, struggling against his grip. However, having one's arms folded behind one's back and pressed into a stone wall did _not_ make it easy.

Potter just kept smiling, the feral look becoming decidedly wicked. A moment later, the teen had pressed up against him, using his weight to keep Draco against the wall, freeing up his hands to grab the blonde's hips.

Draco stilled as Potter pressed _that part_ of him against his own. Potter's lips ghosted over his skin, millimetres away from his throat, his warm breath making Draco shiver.

"Potter, you arse." He ground out.

Potter hummed agreement against the hollow of his throat, soft black hair brushing his chin as his lips finally met his skin in a light kiss. The hands at Draco's hips slipped down to cup his ass instead.

Draco gasped, the sound a little strangled, as Quidditch-strengthened fingers pressed into his buttocks, shamelessly massaging them.

His skin darkened rapidly as he remembered the two of them had a damned audience. _None_ of whom seemed to want to leap to his rescue. Hellllo? Potential rape victim here!

...On second thought, if someone ripped Potter away right now, he might have difficulty explaining just how visibly turned on he was...

No. No... Better Potter just stayed right where he was... Yes. And kept doing.. that... Yeah..

He moaned slightly, the sound cut off almost before it began. Potter caught it though and the black hair lifted to reveal glinting green eyes and soft, warm lips. Those lips teased the edge of his mouth, kissing gently at the corners and pausing occasionally to suck or nibble his lower lip briefly before moving on to kiss up his jaw and nuzzle the point between ear and neck.

"Potter..." He growled.

The eyes turned back to him. They were _definitely _laughing at him this time.

Potter's hands moved, one slipping up and under his shirt to run light fingers over his stomach, whilst the other lifted to cup his face and hold him still... Potter's grip was gentle, but unmistakably in control...

Draco's pants felt that little bit tighter.

Then Potter was kissing him, mouth moist and fresh, tongue strong and demanding. Draco forgot the people watching them, forgot who was kissing him and just lost himself in the moment.

Blaise, watching the pair with affectionate exasperation and a little bit of physical envy, sighed softly.

Potter was now rubbing against his blonde, self-named 'rival', occasionally pressing into Draco with a rippling, all-body movement.

It looked _hot_.

Draco certainly thought so too, despite the fact that his eyes were closed. The noises coming from the blonde were blatantly sexual and his legs had parted to allow one of Potter's own between them.

Blaise chuckled. His best friend was practically humping the teenaged 'saviour', although, who could blame him?

It certainly looked promising. Blaise had recognised his friend's obsession over Potter for what it could have been years ago.. But Potter had never really seemed interested. Not as a friend, _or_ an enemy.

But he sure seemed interested now...

And Boy-Wonder probably wasn't the kind who'd screw Draco and then use it to hurt him.

Probably

...Hm.

Potter pulled away briefly and hissed something. A doorway abruptly opened up directly behind Draco.

Potter shoved the blonde through – rather roughly, although by the sound of it, Draco hadn't landed on anything uncomfortable.

Then he grinned savagely and stalked in after him.

The wall faded back into view.

Those Slytherins who chose to remain in the common room that night, however, rapidly discovered it was _not_ completely soundproofed.

Almost four hours later, the wall faded away again.

A very rumpled, sweaty and satisfied looking saviour stepped blithely out and strolled away.

He was smiling.

Almost fifteen minutes later, a sweaty, shaking Draco limped out after him.

He was _also_ smiling.

Blaise bit his lip to stop his own smile and made sure the blond heir to the Malfoy fortune wobbled his way safely to bed.

Then he went back downstairs and made sure no Slytherins were thinking of spreading this around.

At least, not until Draco was coherent enough to permit or forbid them himself...

_END_


End file.
